Dreaming in Black and White
by IronEclipse
Summary: A collection of oneshots and drabbles, based on a variety of themes and character interactions. Chapter Nine: Dress Blues: "I don't hate you." He said softly before placing a small kiss along the palm of her hand.
1. Sleep

'To sleep, perchance to dream.'  
~William Shakespeare

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_**Chapter One:**_

**Sleep**

Riza could not shut her eyes. No matter how hard she tried, they refused to slip shut. Perhaps it was her head; her brain seemed to contain clips of information, slides that continued to bounce past her vision like an old film reel. Her brain, much like her eyes, refused to remain silent. Perhaps it was the weapon perched silently within her fingertips. After all, guns had the ability to haunt the thoughts of soldiers at night. The sound - the high pitched wail- was like a child's scream in the night. Riza knew it well, for she had been given the unfortunate opportunity to experience it endlessly. The sound was a symbol of death, a figure of darkness in a world of light and heat.

It was certainly odd, but Riza knew why sleep had chosen to evade her body. It was a price that had to be paid. Those who killed the innocent did not deserve peace or rest. She, a simple soldier, did not deserve to slip into oblivion and dream. As a consequence for her pillaging and ruthless killing, she was forced to remain awake and become a creature of the night. She had become a monster, one that had been forced to embrace the darkness. It was impossible; she could no longer be one with the light. The daylight literally scorched her skin, further emphasizing how pathetic and evil she had become.

The war had broken her. For that reason, Riza did not have the ability to sleep. She was unable to dream. Her life, once bound with reason and hope, had become a terrible and foreboding nightmare. It was a miracle she continued to live through it.

A whisper of wind slipped through her pale blond hair. Riza looked into the distance and sighed. Ishval was a hellish place when the sun vanished from the world. Fire licked at the remnants of buildings, and the faint laughter of men could be heard dancing throughout the air. Shadows swayed along the ground; they were demons, creatures that haunted every corner and nook that remained within the damaged city. Everything was black and red. Blood and shadow. Nothing remained.

When footsteps echoed within the distance, Riza remained frozen in her position along the battered roof of an old building. It was an area within the makeshift military barracks that no one touched. It was Riza's place; her home within hell. Another sigh slipped through her lips. It merged through the wind, becoming one with the dry breeze. The footsteps came closer, but she refused to acknowledge them. She already knew who they belonged to.

A small crunch of rubble was the only indicator of the so called stranger's arrival. Riza tightened her grasp on the rifle between her fingertips. She stroked the smooth metal encasing the weapon, enjoying the chill that penetrated her skin. She liked the cold in Ishval; it contrasted the unbearable heat that slithered across the ground during the day. It was uncharacteristic, and therefore a welcome sign of life.

The footsteps, a small, insignificant sound in the night, reached for Riza. She shifted her body, moved so there would be space along the small wooden bench she sat upon. Her body immediately stilled, and she continued to stare into the night. Her eyes absorbed the darkness, becoming jet black. Her blond hair, once bright, had dimmed to a dull brown, the colour of murky pond water. Riza was a stranger to herself. That was another reason why sleep refused to capture her soul.

Her companion suddenly sat down, his feet no longer creating subtle sounds in the night. The weight of his body made the bench creek uneasily; for a moment Riza believed that her perch would break. It truly wouldn't be surprising. Wood was a fragile thing, especially in a world of fire and burning heat. Riza's grip tightened along her gun. She craved to feel the chill hidden within the metal, the ice that threatened to crawl into her veins. She wanted to feel nothing, to become nothing. She squeezed tighter, almost in desperation.

A hand brushed her own.

Riza froze. She looked at her fingertips, forgetting the desire to feel nothing, to become one with the haunting chill of her weapon. Her hands, once clenched with determination, were as limp and lifeless as a leaf falling through the wind. Her gun, a symbol of her living nightmare, now leaned against the edge of the roof. She did not place it there. He had.

Her fingers, thin, worn, and elegant, were held in the hands of another. Roy Mustang, a man who had also committed great deeds of evil, balanced her palms between his own. She starred at his calloused fingertips, the dips and dents that dominated his skin. Dirt and cuts marred his flesh, a constant reminder of the battles that occurred endlessly. He held Riza's hand gently, almost as if it would break. It was odd, that only he could see her as fragile, when so many had chosen to believe she was hard and cold as stone.

Her eyes, which simply refused to slip shut, looked towards Roy. She met his blue gaze, and did not ignore the pain that lingered there. He too, a man seen as unconquerable, suffered wounds that could not be seen with the human eye. He had been burned and scathed, washed in blood. The gunshots, the screams which filled the night, sought him out. Roy lived within hell; he had walked each path like an old friend. He was the mirror image of Riza, a man who could no longer dream.

He was broken.

Perhaps that is why he chose to take her hand. Only broken people, those who had fallen apart, could comprehend the strength it took to be pulled back together again. Only monsters could take comfort in each other.

Riza looked into the distance again, lightly squeezing Roy's hand between her fingertips. It was a thank you of sorts, a simple gesture that needed no words. It was a secret, one shared between the scathing wind. She knew sleep wouldn't come to take her. She was far from deserving. But as she starred into the rubble of Ishval, the haunted chuckles of men surrounding her from below, she accepted her predicament. Roy's presence was enough.

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**_AN: _Hello, FanFiction! This is my first short story written for Fullmetal Alchemist, an absolutely wonderful show! It is definitely one of my favourites! I plan to continue writing short little passages with a variety of themes or prompts in mind. I will focus on a variety of characters, but most likely Roy and Riza, since I have become rather attached to their relationship. It's complex, yet mysterious. There is so much that we will never know, which creates hundreds of things to write about!**

**If you guys have any suggestions for prompts, please let me know! I have a difficult time choosing one, as I have so many ideas in mind! This passage is based on sleep, or rather, the absolute lack of it. It's a little dark, but I suppose it is decent enough. **

**Thank you guys for reading! I hope I have created some enjoyment for readers out in this world! Please feel free to leave a review or prompt. It is appreciated! **

**_~IronEclipse _**


	2. Melody

_'Music gives a soul to the universe, wings to the mind, flight to the imagination, and life to everything.'  
__~Plato_

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_**Chapter Two**_

**Melody**

Riza scribbled in determination, her wrist twirling and bending at a furious rate. She ignored the intense, but warm light that refracted off the numerous papers and pens that littered her desk. The sun was merely a distraction, one that sought to transport her to a world of lazy dreams. Birds chattered throughout the open window happily, singing a bright and cheerful tune. It was enough to capture any individual's attention, but she was not one for trivial weaknesses. Riza was a soldier; she had the ability to conquer all, especially the summer season.

In the bright light, she continued to write rapidly, ignoring the silent chaos around her. Nothing was more important than the scratch of her pen, and the smooth feeling of ink slipping across yards of paper. She lost herself in the sound, once again becoming one with the utensil placed tightly within her grasp.

For hours, she had been signing and filling out forms. Her life was a blur of ink, all due to the actions of her superior. The date for completing the monthly reports had come, and was nearly gone. Time had slipped through her fingers like whips of smoke. Roy Mustang had foolishly avoided any and every form of paper work for nearly thirty days, leaving Riza to scramble and pick up the pieces of his giant mess.

He had played with fire. There would be consequences.

A huff of frustration slipped through her lips, so silent it could be passed for a puff of wind. She sparred a glance upward, only to see Roy standing by an open window within the office. Riza suppressed a well deserved growl of irritation. She did not understand his compulsion to avoid any form of work. He was a good man - a valuable man, but everything he did had the ability to simply rub her the wrong way. He was insolent, rude, and childish, but Riza could never hate him. In fact, it was quite the opposite.

With frustration, she returned to her work, once again scribbling like a madman. She focused on every curve and flourish contained with her writing. Art was never her talent, but writing, she had gained enough experience to perfect that form of expression. It was awe-inspiring, how the appearance of word could simply change to fit the needs of another. An individual's mood could transform a meaningless phrase into a blade as bright as gold, or a worn double edged knife. It was a dangerous skill, one that had the ability to kill in more ways than one.

Riza reached for another piece of paper, wearily glancing at the clock positioned above the doorway. Her comrades had left hours earlier; it seemed as though the sun had captured both their hearts and minds. Summer was a slippery season. It had the ability to mislead, and force those with wandering minds astray. Fortunately, she had the strength to avoid such atrocities. There was no time to waste - she had papers to fill and forms to finish.

For several minutes, Riza continued to scrawl viciously once again. Only the sounds of her pen, loud in the quiet room, served to prove that she was alive and well. Her fingers tightened along her writing utensil briefly, before relaxing as she snatched another paper from the pile alongside her left arm. It crinkled in her hand, creating a sound comparable to the crinkling leaves outdoors. She began writing again, but was suddenly forced to stop. Riza's eyebrows crunched in confusion; her mind, once devoid of emotion, was filled with an immeasurable amount of thoughts.

Roy, her long time companion, was singing.

The music that slipped through his lips - it was like a breath of fresh air. It was like a smile in the midst of a bloody battle, a secret shared between the best of friends. It was sweet, similar to the taste of peppermint tea. His voice was low, but incredibly soft. It sent shivers up her spine; she could feel the tremors slip through her head and toes.

She couldn't remember the last time he had sung. It was odd, but long ago, Roy had uttered a soft, but sweet tune. It had been when they were children, still young and naive. The memory was worn and patchy, but alive nonetheless. She had thrown an apple at his head after he had called her some absurd and irrational name. He had merely laughed, and begun chanting some unknown tune. It had been beautiful then, and continued to be so now.

The grip on Riza's pen loosened as she recalled the past. She could feel the apple in her hand, smooth and ripe, as she whipped it toward Roy's raven coloured hair. Her aim had been true; even as a child, she had harboured a spectacular skill. She was born to have high ambitions. Perhaps that is why she chose to stay by her comrade's side.

With amusement, her previous grievances forgotten, a small grin slipped across Riza's lips. The smile was tiny, nearly insignificant. It was hidden by a fog of memories and diligence, but in the sunlight, it shone brightly for everyone to see. She missed those days, the ones where the sun shimmered within a sky of sapphire, glowing like a fiery ember. She could be free, and Roy, the man standing along the window, was not bound by duty or word. Those days had long since past, and had become slivers of a daydream. It was a miracle that she had the ability to recall such events.

Riza sat calmly for several minutes, allowing her mind to travel down lost and worn roads. She was guided by Roy's voice and the slow melody that slipped through his lips. The pen placed within her fingers began to slowly slip and slide towards the coppery surface of her desk. She paid her writing utensil no notice; she was distracted, misplaced along with every thought that passed through her head. Only when Riza's pen fell from her fingertips to land on the wooden floor, did she wake from her reverie.

"Distracted, Lieutenant?"

The small smile plastered across her face slowly slithered from existence. Riza directed her gaze towards Roy, watching as a thin strand of black hair fell between his eyes. It seemed as though another window had been opened; she could hear the faint sounds of childish screams floating throughout the wind.

"No, sir." She replied simply, tearing her gaze from the man standing on the other side of the room. Her fingers stretched towards the floor, quickly snatching the pen that had suddenly destroyed her moment of thought. Her thread of concentration had been snapped, the frayed fabric suddenly rustling in the summer breeze.

A sly grin erupted across his dark features. His eyes, once lost within the melody of music, glittered in the late afternoon light. She could see the shadow of doubt lingering within his gaze; the mellow darkness splashing throughout the air like a series of raindrops. "If you want," he said lazily, his eyebrows raising suggestively, "I could continue. After all, I love serenading beautiful women."

Riza's eyes, once trained to the floor, now met Roy's face with unrelenting force. She starred into his eyes, nearly piercing his overpowering soul. "That won't be necessary, sir." she stated blankly, slipping on a mask completely devoid of emotion. "As I recall, you have little time to spare. If you want, you can serenade your paper work."

"That's hardly amusing, Lieutenant."

"It wasn't meant to be, sir." Riza replied smoothly, snatching her pen between her fingertips. She returned to the papers scattered along the surface of her desk. Her wrist, once relaxed, was now twirling and bending again. A heavy sigh slipped through Roy's lips, before he turned back towards the window, and in turn, his piles of paperwork.

For several moments, silence stretched across the room. Nothing could be heard but the faint rustle of paper and the scratches created by writing continuously. The silence however, did not last long. As soon as Riza reached out to grab another form, her superior began to sing again. Curiosity conquered her mind, but it immediately began to fade. Instead, a smile of amusement stretched across her lips.

Roy was singing to his paper work.

The words that danced throughout the air contained declarations of love and dedication - ironic, since he hardly touched a form or fragment of work. His apparent laziness had forced Riza to remain in the office during a radiant summer day. Despite his actions, she continued to write, allowing her pen to control her thoughts.

Little did she know however, that her smile did not go unseen. Roy, still standing along the window, glanced at Riza from the corner of his eyes, a satisfied grin consuming his features. Her smirk, not matter how small, was enough to get him through the day.

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**_AN: _Hello, again! Here is the second installation to this series! It is relatively simple, nothing too deep. The prompt was 'melody', which I believe to be quite interesting. I never pictured Roy Mustang as a man who enjoyed music! This scenario just popped into my mind. Like usual, I had to let it out!**

**Thank you to anyone who chose to follow and review my previous addition to this collection of stories. It is appreciated! Once again, I welcome readers to assign me a prompt. One word will do! It is always interesting to see where a word or phrase will take me! Hopefully, this piece of writing created enjoyment!**

_**~IronEclipse**_


	3. Old Ladies and Automail

'What is a friend? A single soul dwelling in two bodies'  
~Aristotle

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_**Chapter Three**_

**Old Ladies and Automail**

Edward Elric had never understood vehicles. In fact, he had never understood mechanics, which made complete sense, as he had an automail technician for a best friend, if not a close companion. He had two metal limbs, an arm and leg, both of which had earned him the name 'Fullmetal'. When he thought about it, his life was a walking contradiction. He was the physical apparition of everything he disliked. It was almost painful, the realization of it all. Edward could feel the annoyance slip through his veins like a drug, making his vision blurry.

"Pay attention, idiot! Do you want to get us killed!?" A hand roughly snatched the steering wheel placed directly in front of Edward's chest. The person, his driving instructor, twisted the wheel violently to the left, forcing the vehicle back on its correct path.

A grim smile wound its way across Edward's mouth. It was Winry who had decided that he needed new mode of transportation. She insisted that learning to drive would be beneficial, as it gave him another means of moving from one place to the next. He personally believed that the idea was useless. Vehicles could easily be destroyed and were not always fast enough to provide a safe retreat. Alchemy was obviously a better option; Edward never liked fleeing from a scene. He preferred to face his problems, or rather, force his way through them.

"Could you pay attention!" The driving instructor, whose name he had long forgotten, shouted again, grabbing the steering wheel with the speed of some foreign animal. "You have to be the most incompetent student I have ever met! Nearly crashing into people and houses…" He muttered angrily, scribbling something down in his notebook when he believed the vehicle was back on course.

The jolt of anger burst throughout Edward's body at the instructor's rude comment. He shifted in his seat, the confines of the car suddenly becoming far too constricting. "I am not incompetent!" He said rather loudly, ensuring his eyes remained glued to the road.

"Oh, really? Well, if you think you are so successful, why don't you explain the incident that occurred five minutes ago? Or the one that happened when you first got into this car?" The man, a slim and slimy looking thing, suddenly thrust his notebook into Edward's face. "It's all written down here, son! Don't play games with me!"

Due to the man's antics and behaviour, the vehicle had swerved rather violently, squealing against the pavement along the road. Edward winced in frustration, desperately attempting to get the car back in its normal position. It was a difficult task, one he wished could simply disappear. He hated driving; the only reason why he had agreed to take the test in Central was because of Winry. He cared for her too much. Refusing would anger her, and in turn, lead to the destruction of his body. She loved her wrench.

"Pay attention!" The driving instructor screamed again, reaching for the dashboard in order to stabilize his body.

"That was your fault, old man!" Edward yelled loudly, his fists clenching along the steering wheel. "You're the idiot who decided to throw your stupid book in my face!"

"How dare you! I would never interfere with the learning process of a student!"

A dark laugh popped out of Edward's mouth. He purposefully turned away from the road, choosing to stare into the instructor's eyes. _"_Your presence _is_ interfering, you slimy-looking, backwater idiot! How about you leave?" He paused to gesture towards the window placed within the vehicle. "The door is right there."

The man began screaming again, but not because of Edward's threat. His hands, once attached to the steering wheel, were now floating in the air, pointing towards the door. He wasn't focusing on the road either, which certainly increased the instructor's distress.

"Just stop!" The man shrieked in a high pitched tone. "Park over there! Park by the convenience store! Do something before you kill us both!"

A sarcastic snort slipped through Edward's lips. "It would be my pleasure."

He quickly turned the vehicle and parked alongside the store. Edward knew at that very moment that Winry would kill him. He had obviously failed the test. He was supposed to finish the exam at a destination ten minutes from where he currently sat. In frustration, he ran a hand against the braid that dangled along his neck. At least he tried. It wasn't as if he had flat out refused to drive in the first place.

"Thank God." The instructor said while scrambling to get out of the car. He quickly jumped out of the vehicle, the door slamming with an unnecessary force. "Wait here. Another student, a more _capable student_," he added, a scowl plastered across his features, "will come and pick it up. You are to wait for your results, that is, if you have any."

With that, the man turned on his feet and practically sprinted away from the scene. It was amusing to say the least, but Edward couldn't suppress the feelings of terror that filtered throughout his body. Winry would murder him, and everyone, including Al and Mustang, would laugh at his immediate failure. It was humiliating, which only served to elevate his frustration.

Edward unclipped his seatbelt and stepped into the sunlight, attempting to throw away his worries. He would simply tell everyone that Winry had forced him to drive. After all, it wasn't as if he had asked to take the test. It was clearly her fault; the whole situation become toxic due to her request. The door shut quickly as Edward made his decisions. He leaned against the vehicle, bathing in the sunlight that flowed throughout the sky. He had several minutes until Winry would come prancing into his life with a wrench and a few choice words. She would, without a doubt, come running as soon as she made contact with the driving instructor. He didn't want to know what would be shared between the two.

At the thought of the conversation, Edward winced and turned his head, his eyes fluttering shut. He wanted to transform into a microscopic being, an organism that could hide and live in peace. He didn't deserve to deal with constant scrutiny. The military already imposed on his life at an incessant rate. Any more meddling, and he would blow them all to pieces with his wrath.

"Excuse me, little boy?"

His eyebrow twitched in annoyance. If there was one thing worse than the military, it was people, random people, calling him little. He carefully opened one eye, attempting to assess who had challenged his appearance. It was an old lady in a periwinkle dress. She seemed to be kind, but Edward had a feeling it was quite the opposite. He had a knack with deciphering people. It was an instinct, one he always trusted.

"I am not _little._" He managed to spit out with difficulty, adjusting his position along the car.

"It doesn't look that way, child, but that's beside the point."

Another burst of anger traveled within his body. His height was everything; it had on many occasions led him to victory. Edward was not about to let some morbid old woman get away with calling him little or a child. "Excuse me," he said with irritation, "but what do you want?"

"Oh," she laughed, waving a hand, "I am just asking why you, if you do in fact have a license, have chosen to place your vehicle in a handicapped parking space. You don't look entirely disabled."

Edward leaned back and starred at the woman in disbelief. He glanced at the ground, and sure enough, it was painted a pale blue colour. "Does it matter?"

"Over course! We can't have random citizens wasting handicapped parking spaces!"

With his fists clenched, Edward starred directly into the old lady's eyes. He didn't understand why he was having such an unfortunate day. First it was driving, and now he had to deal with an elderly woman who clearly wanted to pick a fight. There was only one way to end the matter; he had to show the woman his automail. He sighed and pulled up his shirt sleeve. "I hate to break it to you lady, but appearances can be deceiving."

Time passed slowly as the elderly woman appraised his arm. Her expression darkened as she continued to stare. "I don't see how this changes anything. You are still healthy, normal, and quite short."

"Excuse me?" Edward stated rather angrily, his fingertips abandoning the fabric of his shirt. He couldn't believe this woman; she had no right to call him normal. He was far from it. Not every person that walked through Central was proficient in alchemy. Not every citizen had two metal limbs and a brother without a body. Not every person was hunted day and night by monsters. He was a survivor, an individual who had suffered ceaselessly. He had every right to be disabled and place a vehicle in a special parking space.

"I said that you seem pretty normal to me."

_"I know what you said!"_ he shouted rather loudly, shifting his position so he stood vertically. In his opinion, he towered over the lady like the shadow of an apartment building. "and I don't like it."

The old lady laughed. "It doesn't matter if you don't like what I said or not. I suggest you move your vehicle before I report you to the police."

Edward gripped his arm tightly, his fingers digging into his metal flesh. He glared at the woman, wishing she would just fade away. "Look here you old hag! I am disabled. I have every right to park in this space. If you have a problem with that, leave me alone and go home. You probably have fifty cats take care of anyway. "

The lady scowled and began fumbling with her purse. "If I am to do that, I guess I should write down your appearance. Let's see…" she paused, snatching a pen and a small book. She grinned widely before writing anything down. "You are short, probably a child between ten and twelve? I suppose you must be older if you can park a car, but the police don't need to know that."

Rage continued to seep through Edward's veins. This lady, the old hag, was beginning to get on his nerves. She obviously thought she was bettering society. It was clear in each of her actions. "Do you want to see disabled? _Fine!_ I'll show you!" He shouted loudly, a plan formulating within his mind. He knew it could backfire, but anything was better than dealing with another fool, an idiot would couldn't mind their own business.

The woman looked up from her book, a small smile consuming the edges of her mouth. She didn't say anything, only an inquisitive and deadly glow seemed to radiate from her eyes. It was enough for Edward to act. He breathed deeply, before quickly clapping his hands. The familiar glow from alchemy surrounded his body and space. It took several moments before the result of his actions could clearly be seen.

Edward Elric, in his angry and frustrated state, had used alchemy to remove his left arm.

Winry would kill him, but he truly didn't care. The look on the lady's face was priceless, it was worth damaging his precious automail. With satisfaction, he pointed his newly detached arm directly in the old woman's face. He smiled grimly, enjoying the fact that he had been victorious. _"Look who's disabled now?!"_

Of course, his moment of triumph did not not last. Edward could almost sense the pain before it erupted in the back of his head. _"Ah!_" He shrieked, before collapsing along the pavement beneath his feet. He groaned as his vision swam; the world had momentarily transformed into a pond of sorts, a lake containing thousands of ripples.

"Edward, you idiot! What have you done to your automail!"

Winry Rockbell, his dear friend and assistant, stood along the edge of the car, her eyes twinkling with rage. It seemed as though she had heard about the driving incident. That would be the only reason why she towered over him, a dark glare consuming her features.

"It was an old lady!" He yelled in pain, attempting to stand on his feet. He fumbled with difficulty for several moments, as he only had one arm. The other one was sprawled along the ground, casting a shadow on Winry's shoes. "See?"

The pain shooting through his head faded as he starred at the place the old woman once stood. His mouth fell open; it was impossible. She had vanished like smoke on a clear summer day. Another burst of anger consumed his body; he couldn't believe his luck. It was almost amazing how his day had becoming steadily worse. First the drivers test, then the old lady. Winry's appearance - it was the cherry on top of the proverbial ice cream cone. She topped everything off.

"She was there!" he shouted, while pointing towards the pavement. "You have to believe me, Winry!"

"After today? I don't think so, Ed." She stated, picking his discarded arm up from the stained pavement. "You have got to be crazy, failing your drivers test and ripping your own arm off. Do you have any common sense?"

"I have plenty of common sense!"

Winry glanced at Edward and then his automail arm. "Clearly."

A wince pulled at the corners of his mouth. She was right; no one in their right mind chose pull their own arm off, not to mention fail a drivers exam. He sighed miserably, and pinched the bridge of his nose. At this point, he wanted to rest. He was tired of life in the city. It was loud, obnoxious, and utterly uncomfortable.

"Look," he muttered quietly, gesturing towards his detached arm. "I will pay you double if you fix that for me."

"Do you even have to ask?" Winry questioned, while fiddling with a segment of metal on Edward's arm. "Just don't attempt to rip it off again."

He nodded, his braid dancing in the wind. "Yeah, do I look like an idiot?"

"Yes, you most certainly do."

Edward scowled briefly, before following Winry down the street. He didn't get far; as he rounded a corner, his friend's wrench, her favourite tool, met his skull again with a loud crack. He doubled over in pain, his fingertips rubbing the sensitive bump on his head. "What the hell was that for!?"

A small smile of satisfaction slipped across Winry's lips. Her eyes glowed brightly in the afternoon light, mirroring the actions of the sun. Edward was far from stupid; he knew exactly what she was going to say. She was his closest friend and comrade. Years of interaction had allowed him to predict the words that would pop out of her mouth.

"That," She paused, smacking her wrench along the top of her palm, "was for failing your test."

Edward couldn't help but smile grimly. That was Winry. Everything about her was as smooth as steel. She was his favourite person in the world; the one and only thing he liked about mechanics.

* * *

_**A/N: **_**Hello, everyone! This prompt came from my sister. She has a passion for Pinterest, and while searching through hundreds of pictures, came across a comment from a user on Tumblr. It was a prompt, an idea a person wanted to see on paper. So, because my sister thought it was funny, I decided should adapt it to my own writing. I have, and this is the result. It's pretty random, but hey, I had fun putting it together.**

**This is the prompt: Ed had a prosthetic leg and arm. He parks in a handicapped spot, and a middle-aged woman yells at him for parking there when he's obviously healthy. He proceeds to take his arm off and throw it at her. (Winry gets mad later at him for it)**

**I have tweaked it a bit in order to capture Edward's personality. I don't know if he would throw his arm at someone, but nonetheless, it would probably be funny. I don't know the user's name on tumblr, but here is your idea on paper! If you are out there, this has been made for you! **

**I hope you guys enjoy it! Feel free to leave a review or prompt! **

_**~IronEclipse **_


	4. Nosebleed

_"Accidents are not accidents, but precise arrivals at the wrong time"  
__~Dejan Stojanovic_

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_**Chapter Four**_

**Nosebleed**

Whispers tumbled throughout the hall, moved with an air of fatigue that had the ability to influence the best, if not the most prominent figures within the military. Roy, a man whose strength was greatly admired, seemed to fall apart around the edges. He was tired, and as the day continued, his weariness only seemed to grow. His behaviour was similar to a plant; with the correct nourishment, he would stretch and twist toward the sun; without it, he was merely a shrivelled shrub, an utterly lifeless being.

"Uh." Roy moaned tiredly, a hand running throughout his dark hair. He allowed his fingertips to drag across his face, pausing to settle on his nose. The day was too long. Paper work, an enemy in his eyes, haunted his every footstep. It was a miracle that he was tired. Otherwise, he would never have an excuse to sleep.

With drowsiness, he glanced around the room, taking the opportunity to stare at the clock. It was positioned above the door at the opposite side of his office. It shone in the early morning light, glittering like a recently carved diamond. It revealed nothing important. It only served to solidify his suspicions; he wasn't going to be leaving anytime soon.

"Uh." He groaned louder, suddenly slamming his fist against the smooth surface of his desk. "Lieutenant, how many more files must be completed in the next hour?" He paused, moving his fingertips to pinch the bridge of his nose. Sleepiness continued to pull at his eyelids. It was enough to drive any man into madness. "Lieutenant?"

Silence.

Roy looked up, peering through the gaps between his fingers. He starred at the opposing side of the room, his eyes glittering with confusion. Riza, his friend and valuable comrade, was no where to be seen. Her desk, usually filled with life, was empty. Nothing, not even her chair, had been touched. With concern, his eyes flitted toward the door. The whole situation simply didn't make sense. His lieutenant was never late. She was a woman who cherished organization and time management. If she had been delayed, he would have heard about it.

"Havoc," Roy stated sternly, his hand flying from the contours of his face. He nearly asked about Riza, but was forced to stop. He starred at the far side of the room, a series of questions bursting throughout his head like gunshots. Jean Havoc, along with Fuery, Breda, and Falman were standing in a small circle whispering intently, almost like young children. Their eyes, once calm, were now filled with panic. They looked as though they were criminals, caught committing some evil deed.

"Is there a problem?" Roy asked innocently, his eyebrows raising with interest. His comrades shuffled around nervously, their voices slowly coming to a halt. Their behaviour was questionable, something he did not understand. "I suggest answering my question. Otherwise, I might have to take action." He raised his fingers in warning, refusing to hide the devilish smirk that slipped across his lips.

It was Havoc, the man he had originally asked, who decided to speak on behalf of his friends. His fingertips slid through his hair nervously. "You haven't heard, sir?" he questioned slowly, his eyes flitting to look toward the door.

"Heard what?"

A surprised expression formed across Havoc's face. His eyes, blue as the sky, seemed to fill with a sudden interest. A grin, one better suited to appear on the face of a demon, slipped across his features. "Well, Colonel, I honestly thought you would know by now. After all," he paused to glance at his circle of friends, "everyone is talking about it."

"More like whispering about it." Fuery muttered quietly, suppressing a sudden wince of pain. Jean had stomped on his toes; it was apparent that he was taking the opportunity to torture Roy, which only meant one thing.

The smile once glued to his face vanished like a puff of wind. He adjusted his position along his desk, wincing as his spine cracked uncomfortably. He was obviously working too hard. No one's body, not even a soldier, should have to create awful sounds. It only served to enforce the path of the future; he was beginning to age.

"Where is the Lieutenant?" he asked rather sternly, his mind still lingering on his previous thoughts. Each of his men starred at him blankly, filling every pore along his skin with annoyance. "Don't look at me like that. I just asked a question."

Another foolish grin appeared across Jean Havoc's mouth. "It's quite the question, sir."

Silence stretched across the room again. It seemed to haunt the office like a stagnant ghost, which was quite unusual. A normal day would have contained laughter and the odd worthless joke. Today was obviously different. In all honesty, Roy was not enjoying it.

He placed his hands along the wooden surface of his desk, sighing deeply. "Havoc, just tell me what's going on." He paused again to register the expressions on his comrades' faces. They didn't look pleased. In fact, they all looked pained, as if some phantom had dumped cold water over their bodies. "And don't take what I asked you lightly. It was an order."

"Have a little heart, Colonel! We were just having some fun!"

Roy rolled his eyes and violently gestured towards the stack of paperwork placed along the edge of his desk. "I don't have time for fun. I have places to be, work to complete." As the words slipped through his lips, Roy couldn't help but suppress a sarcastic smirk. He was lying to himself - paper work and files were the last thing on his mind.

Fuery elbowed Havoc roughly in the gut. "Just tell him, already."

"What? Come on, I'm just having fun -"

"I'll tell him." Falman stated clearly, stepping forward. His eyes met Roy's with an honesty that was commendable. With his arms crossed over his chest, he began to speak clearly, like a parent scolding a child. It was nearly unbearable, but Falman always seemed to have an air of authority. He was born to serve in the army; it was his destiny to meet new people and experience a variety of amazing and terrible things. "There has been a rumour spreading around the base, sir. It's -" he paused to find the correct word, "unique."

"What is this rumour?" Roy asked curiously, a number of ideas popping into his brain. His head now rested along his hand; it seemed as though fatigue was attempting to claim him again.

"It's about Riza Hawkeye, sir."

That caught his attention.

"Explain."

Falman sighed and sent a look towards his fellow comrades. Each of them were starring at the door, their eyes glittering with anxiety. It looked as if they believed a monster would slip through cracks and slide along the hardwood floor. They, without a doubt, believed that Riza would burst through the door and overhear the conversation. It was amusing, an event that truly allowed Roy to appreciate his Lieutenant at a higher level. She had the ability to inspire fear, even when she was not in the room.

"Well," Falman stated clearly, his eyes once again returning to appraise Roy. "There has been an accident of sorts. At least that is what people have been saying."

A jolt of fear slithered through Roy like a lightening bolt. For a moment, his lungs refused to function correctly. Oxygen became scarce, and his legs, once filled with strength, became unbearably weak. "What accident?"

"That's the problem, sir. No one is exactly sure what it is."

Another surge of panic slipped though his veins. Life in central wasn't exactly a ray of sunshine. Since the arrival of the Elric brothers, the military had been thrown into a series of problems, many of which were dangerous and deadly. People had died - it was enough to throw Roy over the edge. He sincerely hoped Riza was safe. Without her presence, he would certainly fall to pieces.

"I don't remember telling you to stop talking." he said while closing his bright blue eyes. Panic led to irritation, and Roy was not in the mood to play worthless games. "I am sure you have some idea as to what occurred."

"Yes, we all do. It's a little unorthodox - some people don't really believe it happened."

Roy waved his fingertips, beaconing Falman to continue. The fear pooling within his stomach only continued to worsen as time passed. He didn't enjoy feeling worthless or weak.

"Apparently Riza Hawkeye received a bloody nose early this morning."

Relief flooded throughout his body, touching both his fingers and toes. The sensation within his stomach vanished; it was almost as if it had never existed. For several moments, Roy basked in the sudden freedom of knowing Riza was alright. He sighed deeply, before truly realizing what had been said. His eyebrows raised in confusion, fading between the dark strands of hair that fell between his eyes.

"A bloody nose?"

"Yes, sir."

"How did this happen?" Roy asked in disbelief, his previous feelings forgotten. He was now intrigued with the current situation at hand.

"Well, people have been saying that a recruit accidentally elbowed her while retrieving a cup of coffee for his superior. The man was, as the rumours say, horsing around with a fellow colleague." Falman said simply, his hand moving to scratch his left leg.

Roy nodded with interest. The whole story did seem a little unbelievable. Riza was a well trained soldier, a sniper who had reflexes that rifled his own, if not other men in the military. She wasn't the kind of person who succumbed to trivial injuries or accidents. The woman was basically superhuman. She had the ability to overcome anything.

"Is there any evidence to support this tale?"

"I met a witness!" Havoc said loudly. He jabbed a thumb towards the direction of the door. "Some recruit from investigations told me he saw the whole thing! There was blood everywhere, and the Lieutenant -"

"What about her?" A voice stated coldly from across the room.

Roy tilted his head to the side, smirking at the horrified expressions plastered across his subordinates' faces. It appeared that Riza had slipped through the door while Havoc was talking. She had mirrored the actions of a ghost, sliding across the floor without a sound. She had, without a doubt, heard most of the conversation.

"Good afternoon, Lieutenant. Is there a particular reason why you are late?" He asked lamely, starring into Riza's deep brown eyes. He continued to survey her appearance, evaluating whether she had been victim to a nose bleed. If she had, there certainly wasn't any evidence. Her uniform was clean as usual, and her hair was pulled into its traditional style. She looked as though she was ready for a fight.

"I was delivering your paperwork to the records office." She retorted coldly, while slowly walking towards her desk. As she passed Havoc, she sent him a deadly look, one reserved for the most troubling individuals.

It didn't phase Roy in the least. "In the morning?"

Riza looked up; she was now standing beside her desk. Her hands, long and elegant, rested along the edge of her chair. "It was necessary, as your work is never completed."

"That's harsh."

"Hardly."

A pained grin slipped across Roy's face. He glanced at Falman and didn't miss the amused light that shone in his eyes. Riza had obviously scored a point; she had a way with words. He yawned once again and rested his arms behind his dark head of hair. "How is your nose?"

His Lieutenant paused briefly, her bangs falling against her face. Roy was captured by the movement, he could feel his breath catch within his throat. He loved her hair; it was golden, the same hue as the sun. When it flowed throughout the wind - he had to suppress the urge to capture it between his fingertips.

"What about it, sir?"

A fragment of surprise slipped through his veins. He looked at Riza with concern, once again assessing her condition. Perhaps she had truly received a bloody nose. "The incident that occurred this morning?" He questioned slowly, carefully phrasing his words. He knew that he was treading on fragile ground.

"You shouldn't always believe what you hear, sir." Riza replied, finally pulling out her chair. She sat down with the grace of a ballerina, snatching a pen from the corner of her desk.

"Why is that, Lieutenant?"

She looked up, her brown eyes darkening in thought. "It might not always be true."

He ran a hand through his dark hair, and watched as she fumbled with a pile of papers stacked along the corner of her desk. He knew she had a point; rumours has the ability to be incredibly irrational and false. But in this case, Roy had a hunch that it was completely true. The only reason why he suspected this was quite simple; Riza was on the defensive. She was addressing him informally and ignoring her comrades across the room. He glanced toward the door quickly, noticing that his subordinates had returned to their seats. Apparently giggling like a group of school-girls was no longer amusing, especially with Riza in the room.

"Okay," Roy said slowly, placing his fingertips back along the surface of his desk. "What is an example of a rumour that is false?"

A flash of amusement, so small that it was nearly invisible, slid across Riza's mouth. "There are people around here claiming that you are unconquerable, sir."

Roy's heart immediately sunk. He regretted talking to his comrade, attempting to pull the truth from her lips. It was a dangerous game he had played, one that was triggered by the men working diligently across the room. Before speaking, he sent an ugly glare at Havoc. He wished he had never gotten involved in the conversation. Riza had a way with words; she had the ability to forge dangerous weapons with her tongue.

"Lieutenant," He stated calmly, his brain scrambling to come up with some sort of distraction. He had to pull Riza away from the conversation topic. He knew where it was going, and it certainly wasn't a kind place. "That is quite nice of you. I am flattered."

His attempt of diffusing the conversation quickly failed. Riza only continued to speak, her voice dancing throughout the room lazily, like a butterfly moving in the summer sky. "I beg to differ."

Roy leaned forward with interest and worry, his fists balancing underneath his chin. He was honestly concerned with what she had to say, even though there was a possibility he could be wounded in the process. "And why is that?"

"You are useless in the rain."

Silence.

He watched Riza quietly, admiring her clever retort. It pained him, but was worth experiencing. He enjoyed sharing words with Riza, even if it was at the expense of his dignity and pride. She was a woman who spoke the truth, and did not cower behind flattery. It was difficult finding a female who spoke so clearly, who did not fear sharing her mind. Riza was a rarity and he truly appreciated her presence. It was a gift.

After talking with Roy, Riza had grabbed her pen and began filling out forms, her wrist moving at the speed of light. Roy noticed that her bangs once again tumbled across her face, shielding her eyes from view. It was like a curtain of water; her beautiful features had become a blur. Despite her actions, he didn't start to work or move around. He was too busy starring at the collar of her uniform. Although it was a dark blue, it did not have the ability to conceal the colour red. Blood hid along the edge of her jacket. It brushed against the edge of her neck, staining her cream coloured skin. It was the only evidence that proved the fabled nose bleed was a real occurrence. Roy smiled grimly, wishing he could brush the crimson fluid away. He admired his lieutenant; her strength was truly commendable.

In a heartbeat, Riza glanced upwards, once again meeting his gaze. It was almost as is she could read his mind like a sorcerer or mad witch. Before he could even say anything, his companion sent him a dark and terrible glare. It was a weapon, one that stabbed him directly in the chest. Roy leaned back and placed his hands over his heart. He captured his lieutenant's gaze at looked into her eyes intently.

"It will be our secret."

* * *

**_AN: _Hello FanFiction! This edition is a little longer than the rest. There is a LOT more dialog, which was amusing to construct. This topic is certainly odd...I suppose I wanted to explore how Roy would react to Riza experiencing an accident or simple injury. I guess it turned out, but who am I to critique my writing? I would end up tearing it apart!**

**I hope this segment was fun to read! I certainly enjoyed creating it! Feel free to leave a review or prompt. Like I stated earlier, you never know where a word will take you! **

**_~IronEclipse_**


	5. Heartbeat

_'Among my stillness was a pounding heart.'_  
_~Shannon A. Thompson_

* * *

_**Chapter Five:**_

**Heartbeat**

It was one of those nights; the ones where Riza had difficulty shutting her eyes. It wasn't that she didn't have the ability to sleep. She could have easily drifted away if she wanted to, allowing her body to be taken away to a place where dreams made up the living world. It would have been easy, just as effortless as breathing. Sadly, that was not the issue. Sleep, the mere action of closing ones eyes, was a choice. Riza chose to remain awake, and ignore the need to let fatigue take over.

The reason was simple; Roy Mustang was sleeping along her side.

She starred at his sleeping form, wondering why he chose to remain there. It was rare that he visited or stayed, as the current trouble in Central was steadily becoming worse. All eyes were glued on him, attached to his body like some form of disease. He normally would have avoided her, remained an arm distance away. She knew why; if he got taken down, he refused to drag her with him. Roy was defending her. The idea of protection bothered Riza. It was her duty to shield him from the world, not the other way around.

A sigh slipped through her lips. Her breath brushed against Roy's face, tossing strands of his ebony hair into the air. She starred at his features, throwing herself into each freckle and scar. His body was a map; she knew every dent and nook. She knew his lips, and the subtle looks within his eyes. She knew the feeling of his skin, the rough calluses that decorated his fingertips. He was a book, and Riza had memorized every page. The knowledge she had gained was great. It was something she took pride in.

Despite this, nothing explained why he chose to stay. There were plenty of other women he was associated with, and yet he chose to remain by Riza's side. Roy may have been flirtatious, but she knew that most of his behaviour was for show. It was another form of protection, a shield he forged to cast a fog over his personality.

Riza yawned and suppressed a sigh. Her situation was an interesting one. This was the only time she would ever share a resting place with Roy. She would never again lay by his side or feel the slow beat of his heart. She would never again feel the heat of his skin or the warmth of his breath. The only reason why he was stretched across her couch was the result of an accident. The work week had been long, and the cup of coffee she had offered him had been far too much. They had both passed out, the couch becoming a safe haven.

Now she was forced to deal with the repercussions of her actions. She breathed slowly, careful not to stir the man who was basically sprawled across her lap. She continued to stare at Roy, watching shadows dance across his face. Her heart fluttered within her chest, beating to the rhythm of the man who slept along her side. It was comforting, his presence. It was incredibly familiar, yet friendly. Riza dared to think it was perfect, but was cautious with her thoughts. She didn't want to cross a line. She had paved many for herself; they cut deep into the earth, scarring the ground she walked on.

Instead she turned her brain off, turning her head so she had a clear image of the window across the room. She starred at the moon and continued to listen to the beat of Roy's heart. It was steady, just like their relationship. It had evolved with time. Riza dared to hope that in the future it would change. Perhaps one day, when wars had been fought and battles had been won, she would have the confidence to settle down and reveal her feelings.

Perhaps Roy would reveal his.

Until that time, Riza would be content with the small moments she had earned with her close friend. The large smiles, goofy grins, and pathetic jokes. She would memorize the glares, and the sly looks sent across every room. She would recall each battle and fight, cut or bruise. She would be happy with the small moments, the little ones that never evolved or changed, just like the beat of his beautiful heart.

* * *

**_A/N: _Hello, everyone! Here is another oneshot! It is based on the prompt 'Heartbeat', which I wrote for no apparent reason. I guess I just felt like writing at eleven o'clock at night? I don't know! At any rate, here is something for you guys to read. I hope it is enjoyable! It is the smallest segment I have created, but I don't think that matters entirely. Size does not matter, when it comes to writing!**

**Thank you guys for reading! Feel free to leave a review or prompt! It is appreciated! **

_**~IronEclipse**_


	6. A Spot of Tea

_"A cup of tea would restore my normality."  
_~Douglas Adams

* * *

_**Chapter Six**_

**A Spot of Tea**

Roy hated buying gifts. For one thing, it spent his well earned money. Everything in Central was expensive, from clothes to a simple, if not pathetic, lollipop. Gifts symbolized an attachment, a connection that could never be undone. It was like tying a horrible knot. Once it became apart of the thread, it could never be taken apart. It forever remained, leaving a stain of sorts, a mark that encouraged bitter feelings and tears.

The worst thing however, had nothing to do with money or petty connections. It was directly involved with people. There was nothing more annoying, more useless, than purchasing a gift for someone who did not deserve it. Roy knew the feeling well. He, while standing in front of a shelf filled with goods and bright colours, knew what it was like to search for the impossible. In all honesty, he had no choice. As an officer, it was his duty to represent his position.

He had to purchase a gift for King Bradley.

It was the man's sixtieth birthday. Every high ranking official in the military had been invited to visit his mansion in order to celebrate the event. It would have been insulting, absolutely degrading, if he refused to bring a gift. Sadly, it was nearly painful, bringing himself to do it. He had pranced around all day, searching for a simple, yet inexpensive present. Roy, in all of his glory, had failed to locate anything of interest. Perhaps that was why he found himself standing in a store filled with tea.

A groan slipped through Roy's lips. It was too much. King Bradley was a murderer, a man whose life revolved around lies. He was the physical representation of evil. If anyone didn't deserve a gift, it was him. In desperation, he pinched his nose and wearily glanced at the packages placed in front of his face. He didn't know anything about tea. The boxes on the shelf; they were meaningless, random colours of the rainbow. For all he knew, each hue and shade could be an insult in itself.

"Tea…" Roy muttered, his hand flying to the top of his head. "How did I get myself into this mess?" He wearily stared at the boxes, attempting to decipher each flavour and combination. Riza often had tea, but he was not inclined to select such a beverage. He preferred coffee. After all, he was a man who was up at late hours. He completed lots of paperwork - most of the time.

With little to no interest, Roy snatched the first box of tea he could see. The container was a dark blue, nearly rivalling the sky before a storm. Before he could appraise the name however, a distracting sound came from the opposing side of the shelf. It was a high pitched shout, one that appeared to have come from a child. He raised an eyebrow with curiosity before peering into the gap he had created from removing the box.

He immediately regretted his actions.

A pair of bright golden eyes starred back at him. At first they were devoid of life, filled with boredom, but as time passed, they seemed to spark with recognition. In ten seconds flat, Roy had stuffed the tea box back in its place without a second glance. He attempted to retreat, but was far too late.

"Colonel!" the owner of the golden eyes yelled with amusement, "fancy seeing you here! I didn't think you were the type to enjoy tea! Don't tell me you're succumbing to your feminine charm!"

Roy released a breath of annoyance before turning around to face his assailant. Edward Elric, in his short and patronizing glory, stood alongside his brother Alphonse. A grin of satisfaction stretched across his face. It was almost demonic, the expression. It sent shivers up his spine and made his blood run cold. He was in for a minute, if not an hour, of torture.

"I'm not the one with the long hair, Fullmetal." he retorted easily, before snatching another container filled with tea. He pretended to be interested in its contents, but didn't miss the sparks of frustration that suddenly filled the air.

"Very funny," Edward seethed, placing his hand along his waist. His fingers brushed his pocket watch, the very object that signified his affiliation with the military. "but that still doesn't explain exactly why you're here."

A sly grin formed along Roy's mouth. He stared at Edward's hair and couldn't help himself. He normally wouldn't have continued to pry at his friend's emotions, but shopping for a worthless cause seemed to warrant the need for amusement. "Ladies first. Isn't that a rule? It's certainly one in my book."

Another scowl slipped across Edwards features. He took a step forward, ignoring his brother's warning not to create a scene. "Look here, you lazy, half-assed Colonel. If you want a fight, I'd be happy to give you one. Just say the word, and I'll kick your ass to the moon and back."

"That won't be necessary, Fullmetal." Roy said with a smile, "as I recall, I did ask you to answer your own question."

"I'm not going to answer any of your damn questions, you shrivelled prune." Edward stated, while continuing to mutter a variety of curses.

Alphonse shifted uncomfortably, his armour rattling in the isle. He grabbed Edward's arm and attempted to show him a box of tea, one he had obviously snatched from the previous isle. It was ignored and nearly tossed to the ground. Roy tilted his head in interest, his fingers tightening on the container within his hand. It seemed as if the Elric brothers were interested in the beverage.

"So, you're shopping for tea. Why?"

It was Alphonse who answered. He spoke clearly and quickly, attempting to avoid Edward's wrath. "It's supposed to be for King Bradley. His birthday is coming up and we, uh, were not exactly sure what to buy him."

"You're such a traitor, Al!"

Edward's remark was ignored. Roy slid the box back into the shelf, and considered another. Once again, he disregarded the name, and glanced at the colour. It was a bright pink - a hue he was certain Bradley would not appreciate. "He's hardly betraying your cause Edward. He just answered the question you refused to acknowledge."

"Shut up! I refused to _acknowledge _the question because you're the idiot who asked it!"

"Are you aware that your manners won't get you anywhere?"

"I'm an alchemist, not a princess, Mustang," Edward hissed, rapidly snatching the box of tea that was placed in Alphonse's metal fingertips. "Luckily, I can't say the same for you." He paused to run a hand through his pale blond hair, "You just love your god damned throne."

Roy sighed and placed the pink box back into the shelf. He gave Alphonse a sympathetic glance, before running a hand through his thick black hair. "That is quite enough. I think we have spent more than enough time attempting to demean each other. Don't you agree?"

"I do!" Alphonse said loudly, sending Edward a hopeful stare.

The alchemist in question did not answer. He only chose to scowl at the ground, ignoring everything and anything around him. Roy took the opportunity to explain his predicament, as it was only fair. Alchemists believed in equivalent exchange, especially the Elric brothers.

"As it turns out, I am also here to purchase a gift for our -" he paused to find a word, "_esteemed _superior, King Bradley."

"Is that so?" Edward managed to spit out, his annoyance beginning to fade.

"Yes."

Roy watched as Edward tossed the tea box between his fingertips, his eyes taking on a look filled with interest. "Why tea?"

"I'm sure you can answer that question easily enough. You're here for the same reason as myself; tea is cheap and requires little thought." Roy replied with ease, running another hand through his unruly hair. He didn't attempt to snatch another box of tea from the shelf. He needed to get to business. There was no time left to spend arguing - he had to purchase something for Bradley before the celebration the following day.

"Requires little thought, eh? Well than why are you taking so long to buy something? You've been here for quite awhile. I can see some grey hairs forming on top of your fat head."

Annoyance slowly slipped through Roy's veins. "It's taking longer than anticipated because of your interference, Fullmetal. Perhaps you have some recommendations?"

Edward's gold eyes narrowed in suspicion, his fingers tightening on the box balanced precariously between his fingertips. "Why the hell would we help you?" He sent Alphonse a glare filled with warning. It's message was contagious; it almost sent Roy reeling out of the store. The alchemist did not want his brother involved with the conversation. He would, without a doubt, offer his assistance.

"Well, if I'm not mistaken, we are both here shopping for a gift. Do you really think King Bradley would enjoy receiving two boxes of tea for his birthday?"

He watched Edward's face contract with thought, almost like a wave washing up on a shore. It would be an insult if both the Elric brothers and himself chose to purchase tea as a gift. It would be infinitely better if they worked together, attempting to share the burden rather than deal with it independently. Roy could already feel relief slip throughout his body, pooling at the base of his fingers and toes.

"I honestly could give a rat's ass about what that bastard receives for his birthday." Edward muttered darkly, glancing at the box of tea between his fingertips.

"He has a point, brother." Alphonse suddenly said quietly, offering Roy a small smile, "maybe we should work with him. A gift from all of us would be a good thing."

"_Good!?_ The only thing I want to give that idiot is a_ good_ kick in the ass!" Edward exploded, the container of tea flying out of his hands.

Roy scowled as the box violently bounced off the side of his head. In annoyance, he pinched the bridge of his nose again, allowing his fingertips to brush the newly formed bump that now resided on the left side of his face. It would be better, far better, if he just purchased his own gift for Bradley. Edward Elric was like a bomb; the more you tampered with him, the more dangerous he got. If he continued to remain within the store, he would, without a doubt, explode and drag everyone down with him.

With an air of fatigue, Roy bent down to pick up the container that had assaulted his precious skull. He glanced at the title, ignoring the satisfied smirk that consumed Edward's features. The box was a pale white, a simple hue that couldn't possibly be deciphered as an insult. The brand of tea was relatively uncomplicated as well. In fact, it was closely associated with the box. 'White Jasmine' was an elegant name, a perfect name, for a man who was arrogant and evil like Bradley.

"This conversation has been rather enlightening," Roy began, the grimace of annoyance slowly slipping off his face, "but I am afraid it must end here. I have found what I'm looking for. Thank you, Fullmetal."

"What?" Edward glanced at the box, the grin of happiness evaporating off his face like rainwater. "Hey! _That's mine!_"

"It was yours - until you conveniently tossed it at the side of my head."

"Look here, Mustang, that_ is_ our tea box! Al picked it right of the shelf!" Edward yelled, his face turning a light shade of pink. His fingers were clenched tightly against his side. They occasionally twitched; it was obvious that the alchemist was envisioning his ultimate despise.

Roy did not attempt to suppress a smirk. "You gave it to me. Consider it a gift."

"_Al!_ Tell him you picked it off the shelf!"

Alphonse shifted forward, a look of anxiety consuming his metal features. He rubbed the back of his head, the metal screeching as his fingers shifted around. "I picked it off the shelf, but you did throw it at him, Ed. Maybe we should just get a different one? Look, there are plenty here -"

"_No!_" Edward interrupted, his hands flying in the air. He pointed a finger at Roy in a accusing manner. "I will not let that bastard steel our tea!"

A large smirk now dominated Roy's mouth. He sighed, allowing oxygen to filter his lungs slowly. "I am not _stealing_ it. You gave it to me. Listen to your brother - his advice might do you some good."

Sadly, Edward refused to listen. He had turned to face the nearest shelf, his eyes glowing with malice. Roy watched silently as he looked at a variety of tea boxes, tossing the ones he thought were useless to the ground. It took several moments before he found a container that captured his interest. It was green; the colour of freshly cut grass. He could almost guess the flavour, as the aroma of mint quickly diffused throughout the air.

"Here," Edward said angrily, whipping the vibrant box at Roy's feet. "Have this one, it's just _filled _with happiness."

Roy didn't give his friend the light of day. He nudged the container with his foot, appraising the name with disinterest. He had no need to search for another flavour; the tea placed within his fingertips was already perfect. It would symbolize the end of his search, the conclusion of all of the pain he was forced to endure over some murderous creature.

"Peppermint is hardly the brand of tea that a man like Bradley would enjoy. It's for children, one like yourself."

A vein popped in Edward's head. He snatched another box of tea, growling as he did so. "Take this one. It's suited for _idiots, _just like you."

The container tumbled across the floor, lightly bumping into the edges of another shelf. Roy cocked his head, staring at the label stuck to the side of the box. It was faded and obviously old, but the name could be deciphered. Another loud sigh slipped through his lips. Blueberry tea was an interesting flavour. He could easily tell, as the designs scratched along the box were unique and flirty. Sadly, it was far too exotic. He was certain Bradley would not appreciate it.

"Fullmetal, don't you think blueberry is too much of a statement? It's -" he paused to find the correct term, "blue." A wince consumed his features as another box came soaring throughout the air. Roy ducked, avoiding the container before it collided with his skull. It crashed into the shelf at his left, knocking several boxes to the ground. He silently hoped that no one would come investigating, as the sound it created was quite loud.

"Blue?" Edward paused, a look of incredulity crossing his features. "_Blue? _What the hell kind of excuse is that?!" In a fit a rage he began throwing, no whipping, random boxes of tea towards Roy's face. "Here, try this _green_ tea - no wait, you can't because it's too _green_! What do you take me for? _Some dumb ass?_ Mustang, you low-life scum! I'm going to beat you until you can't even tell the difference between blue and green!"

"Brother! It's just tea -"

"No!" Edward interrupted again, continuing to throw boxes at a continuous rate. "It's more than that! _It's life or death!_"

Roy nearly laughed out loud. "It's hardly a life or death situation."

"_Really?"_

A shiver traveled down Roy's spine. He tightened his grasp on the tea box placed within his fingertips. He usually wasn't one for fleeing from a scene, but Edward was becoming frightening. He breath came out in thick gasps, very similar to that of a bull preparing to charge. It was annoying, and he had honestly dealt with more than enough foolish things in one day.

"I'm proud of your dedication to tea," Roy began calmly, "it's truly admirable. That however, doesn't mean you should display your affections in a violent manner. Why don't you go outside? Take your passion out on another innocent bystander."

"I'll take my _passions _out on any person I want! I have a gift to buy, so if you're smart, you'll give me the tea in your hands and call it a day."

A loud sigh slipped through Roy's lips. He placed a hand along his chest and leaned back in mock pain. "You wound me, Fullmetal! But once again, I must deny your request. I don't take orders from children."

"_Children?!_" Edward shrieked while another tea box went flying throughout the air, "who are you calling _little?_"

"I never said you were little -"

An onslaught of boxes came flying toward Roy's head, creating a rectangular shaped rainbow. Colours and names slid past his gaze, momentarily blurring his vision. He scowled, his lips twisting in an undesirable frown. The whole situation was simply ridiculous. Edward Elric was becoming an animal, a creature that couldn't see common sense due to one silly thing; tea. It was painful, the amount of time wasted due to his antics. He could have walked into the store and walked out in a matter of minutes. Now - he wasn't too sure.

As the boxes came raining down, Roy moved backwards, slowing heading toward the exit. The noise Edward was creating was unbearable. He was certain that in a matter of moments some random employee would find the source of every loud and mind-blowing sound. The whole situation shattered his subconscious, tore apart his sanity until nothing but strings of normality remained.

"Excuse me, sir?"

Roy froze. The boxes tumbling from the sky immediately ceased. It seemed as though his prediction had come true. He turned slowly, a grimace filled with pain consuming his features. He'd have to put on a show. That was the only way he would get out of the store alive or in one piece.

"Please," he paused to assess the person standing to his left. A woman - a very pretty one at that - had requested his attention. She had curly brown hair and a face that could kill a man with one look. Roy absentmindedly decided that he should visit tea shops more often. "Help me! That child is assaulting me with tea boxes. I don't know if he has been misplaced or lost, but I am pretty sure he needs help."

Another expression filled with rage slipped across Edward's face. "Mustang, you ass!"

His statement was ignored and the woman, obviously a worker within the store, lightly touched his shoulder. "That's horrible! I heard complaints that there was a commotion in this area, but had no idea that a child was involved! Do you know him? He did say a name…"

Roy waved a hand in the air, pretending to laugh sarcastically. "I heard his brother mention something about a toy horse. I believe the boy lost it somewhere in here, most likely along with his parents."

"He's lying!" Edward shrieked, ignoring Alphonse, who couldn't help but smile despite Roy's abnormal behaviour, "I know him! He's a State Alchemist working in Central!"

Normally, Roy would have quickly claimed ownership of his name. It defined his actions and what he had seen in the word. It was a name tag depicting both his successes and failures. It was his identity, the very thing that stuck to his body like glue. He was proud of it, as it reflected the very essence of who he was. Sadly, he chose to remain unidentified. He was having far to much fun torturing Edward, not to mention potentially picking up a beautiful woman.

A sigh of fake sadness popped out of Roy's mouth. "Bedtime stories…look what they do to children these days? It's so heart breaking."

"Oh, sir, it is heartbreaking. Are you… crying? This is terrible! Don't cry!"

Roy suppressed a grin and pretended to wipe an eye. Women liked men who had the potential to show emotion, revealing a segment of themselves. "Oh, don't mind me! It's just…those poor boys! It reminds me of a time when I was younger. I was once lost as well."

The woman patted his shoulder again, sending him a heartfelt smile. "Why don't you bring that tea up to the cash register? I'll ring it up for you, okay? There are tissues there as well."

"You're so kind. I'll do that immediately." Roy sent a sly grin in Edward's direction. He revelled in the glare that darkened the alchemist's eyes. He was being mean, but it was the only way to secure a gift for Bradley. "Just make sure those boys are kept in good hands! It looks as though they could use so much help, not to mention some love."

"_He's lying!_" Edward shrieked again, but was immediately silenced by the woman working within the store.

"Don't worry now," she crooned, her features softening in response to Edward's anger. "You two are perfectly safe. Just tell me the names of your parents-"

"No! Are you stupid? That idiot is pulling your leg, woman! _He's lying!" _Edward yelled again, his fists clenching in anger, "bring him back here and make him pay! Scratch that - _I'll make him pay!_ That god damned fool!"

"Language." The woman said quietly, but Roy could barley hear. He was far away, completely prepared to leave the store for good.

"No! _Listen to me!_ I am - "

"Brother," Alphonse said softly, a hand reaching out to brush his shoulder. "It's not worth it. We'll just buy something else; let the Colonel purchase the tea. In reality, it really doesn't matter."

Roy did not hear the end of the conversation. He was at the opposite end of the store, the isles of tea simply fading into memory. All that remained, was the white box placed tightly within his fingertips. It tied him to the store and the man who deserved nothing, not even a speck of dust for his birthday. His afternoon had been horrible, but at least the Elric brothers, in their sarcastic and antagonizing fury, had illuminated a day that once seemed utterly impossible.

* * *

**_A/N: _Hello, everyone! Here is another random piece of writing for your enjoyment! It is entitled 'A Spot of Tea', in courtesy of my sister, who decided that little phrase would be a great name for a narrative about tea. This whole idea is again, random, but was requested to me through a review. A reader wanted to see Edward and Roy argue over tea! Isn't that awesome? I love tea, so as you guys can imagine, this was extraordinarily amusing to write.**

**This is the prompt: Roy and Edward (maybe Al) are sent by Winry or Riza to fetch some tea at the supermarket. Some funny things are said as they fight over which tea to purchase..This should be interesting... **

**I have obviously tweaked a few things, as I doubted that Riza would send Roy to a store to buy tea, but hey, things turned out in a weird way. Like always, I hope you guys enjoy! Feel free to leave a review or prompt! It's always fun! **

_**~IronEclipse **_


	7. Breathe into Me

_"I'm oxygen and he's dying to breathe."  
~Tahereh Mafi_

* * *

**_Chapter Seven_**

**Breathe into Me**

Life was a question - at least in Riza's eyes. There were so many unopened doors, events that had the possibility of happening, and it literally made her head spin. There was no was to predict to future, no way to dive into the past. If life a had place on a map, or rather the globe, it would be a country that spanned across the entire world. It would be thick with mystery and twisted in darkness. If a lonely traveller sought to reveal its secrets, they would only become lost, tangled in the unruly jungle that was life. There was one way in and one way out. It should have been mathematically simple, yet it wasn't.

Life was a mess.

Riza's hands tightened on the paper between her fingertips. She starred at the words, wondering why people attempted to decipher what life was. It couldn't be understood. It was a mystery, not a problem to be solved. In thought, she ran a hand along the grey hat perched on top of her head. Glancing at the paper again, she frowned, dismissing every section that attempted to tell her how life should be lived. Instead, she tried to search for something interesting, but ultimately failed. Every article she located was composed of thirty words, most of which was dating advice.

That, in its true and pristine form, was why she disliked reading the newspaper. People pretended to know how the world worked, how it functioned in detail. She would much rather dive into a book filled with knowledge, as news of the real world was often dark and dreary. It was enjoyable, living in a daydream. Sometimes, she didn't want to wake up.

"The men are there, Lieutenant, right by the exit of the market."

Quickly disregarding her thoughts, Riza glanced up over the paper, her eyes glittering with interest. Her comrade was correct; the men they had been hiding from were, in fact, standing in the far corner of the market. They all wore black, a colour that was supposed to be inconspicuous. In this particular situation, it failed entirely. Every other individual in the shopping area had chosen to wear bright shades and hues. Their presence was obvious; it stuck out like a sore thumb.

She sent an amused stare toward Roy, who only continued to watch the intruders closely. He was concerned by their arrival. It was a threat, something that signified danger. The Elric brothers were being followed again, and he had taken it upon himself to protect them from immediate harm. Of course, Riza had decided to help. It was her responsibility to protect her beloved friend, even if he chose to become tangled in uncertainty.

So far, Roy's plan to lure the men had been successful. They had become a worthy distraction, and it was only a matter of time before Edward and Alphonse escaped central without a scratch. Riza adjusted her hat again, bending it so it sat low upon her head. It shielded her face and her blond hair, protecting her features from becoming an object of recognition. Her comrade had chosen to do something similar, although it had more to do with clothing, than a simple hat. Roy wore a pair of grey trousers and a pale white dress shirt. It hung loosely from his frame, revealing the panes of his chest. He didn't seem to mind, although Riza did. His appearance was distracting, and had warranted enough attention within the market. In fact, she wouldn't be surprised if Roy was the one who revealed their position; he was doing a horrible job at hiding his identity.

"I see them, sir." she replied easily, choosing to close the newspaper caught between her fingertips. She handed it to Roy, ignoring the surprised expression plastered across his face. "You don't have a hat, so I suggest hiding your face."

"It won't suppress my beauty, Lieutenant."

Riza rolled her eyes. She chose to remain silent, opening the newspaper once again. Pretending to be interested in its contents was a difficult task, so instead, she starred at the men wondering throughout the market. They were close, but pretty far away. She was certain that Roy, along with herself, would not be found.

"Let's move this way." Roy said, gesturing toward a nearby table, "if we continue to stand here we will be seen."

"Yes, sir."

Before Riza could move however, a large gust of wind travelled throughout the market. It was very powerful, so strong, that it forced her to take a step back. The newspaper clutched within her fingertips slipped from her grasp, becoming one with the air. It twirled spectacularly, twisted and bent so it became nearly unrecognizable. She attempted to claim ownership of it again, stepping forward and wrestling with the wind, but failed. The paper only continued to tumble throughout the wind angrily. In frustration, she blew out a giant puff of air. A part of her disguise was gone; Roy, without a doubt, would be more than annoyed.

"I will grab another paper at the next table, sir." Riza stated quickly, turning to face friend, "the wind is quite strong. I didn't mean-" Her voice trailed off in confusion. Normally, she would have continued to speak, but the expression on Roy's face - it stalled her completely. Terror was the only emotion she could distinguish from his features. It pulled at his lips and eyes, creating an unearthly glow. His horror-filled gaze was locked at something behind her back. It was surprising, the amount of courage it took for Riza to turn and find the object that had captured his attention.

The men that had been tracking the Elric Brothers were starring directly at their location; more specifically, the top of Riza's head. With the speed of a sloth, she carefully lifted a hand into the air, wincing at what she found. Her hair, once bound underneath the confines of a hat, was now free to interact with the wind. It was twirling about her face, creating a mess that was more than noticeable. She desperately attempted to suppress the feeling of dread, but failed unceremoniously again. While chasing after her paper, the hat, another part of her disguise, had simply fallen off her head.

Before she could think of anything to say, Roy moved in front of her line of sight, quickly grabbing her arms. He moved with the speed of a tiger, although she knew better than to assume he was some sort of animal. A wall quickly met her back, and Riza scowled at his attempt to hide her body. The men had seen her; it was far too late to act. An angry remark nearly slipped through her lips, but she was interrupted.

"Don't move." Roy whispered, his fingers lightly digging into Riza's arms, "they haven't seen us yet."

"What are you talking about? They saw me. Let me go - I'll distract the men and simply pull them away from this location."

Roy glanced over her shoulder, a frown consuming his features. His eye brows bent in thought, darkening despite the sun that clearly shined within the sky. If thinking could be a tangible thing, Riza could feel it between her fingertips now. Her comrade was mulling something over. She could tell by the way his body tensed under her hands. Whatever idea he had created within his mind - it was something relatively serious.

"There's no need to do that. I have a plan."

Another pang of worry filled Riza's chest. They had to keep the men away from the Eric Brothers. Failure was not an option. If it occurred, the people in Central, the ones that wanted to destroy the world, would win. It was imperative that the boys escaped. Defeat was not justifiable.

"What plan?" she retorted quickly.

"Just stay still, Lieutenant."

"Colonel-" Riza was cut off again, although it had nothing to with her comrade's speech. Roy, in all his glory, had begun to lean forward, his face becoming very close to her own. She tried to speak again, but every word, every phrase, failed to leave her throat. Her mouth had become a useless tool, and as he continued to move closer, all she cold do was breathe.

"Stay still." he murmured again, before his lips touched her own.

If someone had asked Riza what it was like to fall, or to become some sort of illusion, she would have the ability to explain it in detail. Kissing Roy was like falling to pieces. With the ease of simply breathing, he tore down her barriers and reconstructed his own. He left a part of himself in her body, a small fragment that was as sharp of glass. It was hardly painful. In fact, the experience was breathtaking.

He kissed her slowly, taking his time. His fingers danced up her arms, lightly caressing the panes of her face. He pulled at her hair, which was almost as easy as pulling at her sanity. Riza was loosing herself. It was impossible to feel nothing, when she could feel everything. His body pressed against her own, his breath as it skipped across her nose. The tendrils of his hair the brushed against her skin, melding with the blond that dominated her head. He was everywhere and no where, an object of speculation.

He didn't stop.

Any boundaries that had once existed vanished within thin air. Roy's lips pulled a reaction from Riza, one so strong that it destroyed any negative thoughts that existed within her mind. She didn't know that it was possible to feel so much with one touch. Her hands, once locked against her sides, had been freed, and had access to the man at her disposal. She ran her fingertips along the back of his head, enjoying the texture of his hair. It was soft, but nothing like the lips connected to her own.

Butterflies twirled within Riza's stomach, dancing like the wind. She had been brought to life. Energy travelled throughout her body in a manner similar to lightening. She was a bolt of electricity, wound so tight that the mere thought of exploding sent sparks throughout the air. Life had chosen to enter her body again, in a manner that was nothing compared to what she had experienced before.

Sadly, as soon as it found her body, it chose to flee. Roy's lips hesitantly left her own; she could feel his breath brush against her skin. His breathing was ragged. It came out in audible gasps, ones which sent heat rushing to Riza's cheeks. Meeting his gaze would be impossible. Seeing him as she had before would be incredibly difficult, especially since he revived emotions that she had suppressed for so long. He leaned forward again, his chest pressing against her own. Riza held her breath, careful to remain still.

"They're gone." Roy managed to say rather huskily in her ear. His breathing was impaired, and Riza was shocked to believe that she had done it to him. "See?" he paused again to catch a breath, "I told you I had a plan, Lieutenant."

She didn't say anything. It was difficult to speak, as words still refused to enter her mouth. Instead, Riza watched as Roy retracted himself from her body, using the wall as a means of support. When he turned away, she took a moment to run a hand through her messy hair. She didn't know whether to slap the man or kiss him again. Confusion seeped through her body, quickly weakening her fingers and toes. She didn't know what to think anymore. She had obviously been used as a distraction, but to what end?

"Let's move over there. We can contact the others and let them know that the men are on the move."

Riza didn't know she was nodding until Roy had met her brown gaze. He starred into her eyes, sending a silent message. She was honestly too dumbfounded to know what it was. Her brain had been fried and her body, once strong and dependable, had become soft. Before Roy moved forward again, he bent down and picked something up from the ground. He slipped an object into Riza's hand, disregarding the fact that his calloused fingers brushed her own.

"Your hat, Lieutenant." he said softly.

"Yes, sir." Riza affirmed, although she hardly knew what she was saying.

A large smile consumed Roy's features. It touched his eyes, creating a scene that was worthy of a picture. It was filled with satisfaction, but for the time being, Riza chose to ignore it. She refused to give him the light of day. Instead, she remained silent, swimming within her own thoughts. Life certainly functioned in many different ways. Never in a million years would she have guessed that Roy Mustang, a man buried with the burdens of others, would chose to seek her affections. It was almost crazy, the irony of it all. Her hands tightened along the brim of her hat in frustration. She slammed the cap on top of her head, ignoring how it scrunched the edges of her hair.

He would have to work hard for it.

After all, not every man could say that they broke down her walls.

* * *

**_A/N: _Aha, ha...Yeah, this sort of happened. I am not one to write scenes like this all of the time, so when it occurs, it can be a little_ interesting. _I apologize if this isn't in character. I have to admit, I got a little carried away. For all the Marvel fans out there, this chapter was slightly based on Captain America: The Winter Soldier. You guys know the scene with Steve and Natasha on the escalator? Well this is inspired from that. Kissing makes people uncomfortable. That's why Roy and Riza were not caught!**

**Feel free to leave a review and a prompt! I hoped you guys enjoyed reading this! **

_**~IronEclipse**_


	8. The High Road

_"That's the ideal meeting...once upon a time, only once, unexpectedly, then never again."  
__~ Helen Oyeyemi_

* * *

**_Chapter Eight _**

**The High Road**

New York was a city filled with life. Every street was filled with people; like ants they milled about, entering buildings, leaving cabs, and sprinting down the sidewalk in an exaggerated hurry. Every person, no matter who they were, was on a mission. It didn't matter if it was buying a cupcake or attempting to catch a bus; every person looked as if they were doing something important. Of course, that did not include the tourists, who gawked at each skyscraper like the world was about to end. It was amusing to say the least, watching strangers twist their heads up toward the sky. It was almost like a game, guessing which person would crash into another hopeless cause first.

Roy smothered an amused chuckle when an gawky teenager stumbled into an elderly woman casually strolling down the street. She proceeded to grab the boy's shoulder and stab a finger into his chest. Faint yells of anger danced throughout the air as she poked him repeatedly. The woman was obviously attempting to teach the student a lesson. It seemed he was failing to listen to her words however, as the old lady was suddenly forced to use her purse as a means of communication. She hit the boy repeatedly with the bag, her shrieks of outrage becoming steadily louder.

The scene was interesting to say the least, but Roy wasn't completely invested in discovering how it concluded. In a way, he already knew how it ended. The boy would yell in return, and storm down the street, seemingly consumed in his busy life. He would blend into the skyline and become a shadow, one that was meaningless and mundane, just like everyone else.

In New York, nearly every person was attempting to become something or someone. After all, that was why every person came to the big city in the first place. In Roy's opinion, that only meant one thing; utter and complete failure. Only so many people could become successful. If every simpleton decided that becoming famous was a priority, there would be no room for anyone to do anything. There would literally be no point in living.

A huff of annoyance filled the air. The only reason why Roy chose to come to the city was due to a job. He never planned on becoming anyone special, that is, until he began working for one of the largest security firms on the planet. The business had its fingers twisted in some of the largest cooperations on the planet: Apple, Google, Facebook - the works. Some of the world's best computer analysts chose to work in New York, and only for one reason. Brad Tech. It was a silly name for an intense business, but that meant nothing to Roy. All that mattered was its owner.

Bradley, or 'The King' as he was named, dominated everything. His name was stamped across papers and technology - basically anything that warranted a vast amount of cash. Rich didn't even describe the man. He was buried in money and power. The man's influence brushed everything, and not always in the best way. Roy had reason to suspect his actions. Bradley had some sort of plan in motion, one that would change the world. One day, he would be taken down. It would be seen to, that was for sure. Until that time came, Roy was content to remain in watch. New York city was a big place. Someone would come along, with a desire for change. When that time came, he would be ready to strike and take down the man that threatened the very foundations of the world.

In thought, he barely registered the gust of wind that tossed his hair high into the air. It tousled the edges of his suit, ripping his tie from out under his jacket. Glancing down, he watched as it twisted in the sudden breeze, steadily flapping against his chin. Perhaps it was a sign that everything he knew would eventually come undone. It was odd, but he didn't really know if that was a good thing.

After waking from his momentary stupor, Roy finally chose to wave down a taxi. He had been standing along the sidewalk for too long, and was beginning to gather a variety of questioning stares and glances. When a bright yellow vehicle quickly pulled up against his side, he didn't suppress a smirk of satisfaction. The day always seemed a little better when he had the ability to get a taxi in less than sixty seconds. Every day was busy in the city. Therefore, it was often difficult to find a ride in a sufficient amount of time. Today however, he seemed lucky.

Roy pulled the taxi door open, and slid inside with ease. It took seconds to spit out his home address, as it was rather short, and only a few minutes away. When he attempted to grab his seat belt, that was when things became interesting. His blue eyes immediately clashed with brown. It appeared as though a young woman, one with long blonde hair, had already claimed a seat within the taxi. She glowered at him through thick eye lashes, obviously annoyed, although it was difficult to discover why.

"Could you please get off my bag?" She said in a stern tone.

A shudder of surprise filtered through Roy's veins. He glanced down, his eyes darting to the seat he had quickly sat upon. Sure enough, he was perched on top of a worn leather bag. A grimace consumed his features. That was not how he planned on starting a conversation with a lovely young woman.

"Sorry!" He blurted, standing up carefully in order to avoid the ceiling of the cab. Within seconds, the mysterious woman snatched her bag and placed it on her lap. Her hands wrapped around the fabric defensively, a warning Roy could not ignore. He grimaced again, slowly returning to the confines of the seat. When the taxi began to move, he clipped on his seatbelt, taking great care not to touch the woman beside himself.

Absently, he took in her appearance. Her long blonde hair was twisted in a elaborate bun, one that was beginning to slide down the base of her neck. Tendrils of hair danced throughout the air slowly. It took everything in Roy not to capture a strand between his fingers. The woman, although a little stern, was quite the catch. Other than her hair, she wore a simple white blouse and a pair of grey dress pants. Silently he wished she had worn a skirt, but he knew better than to think that. He had to be the gentlemen. Otherwise, he wouldn't be representing his reputation. He was after all, a bachelor than many women within New York strived to accompany often. He didn't own a business, but was well represented and had claimed a powerful position within the company he worked for.

"Excuse me, sir, but it is rude to stare."

Roy couldn't help but grin mischievously. He glanced at the lady through slanted eyes, allowing every bit of charm contained within his body seep to the surface of his skin. "My apologies, but can you really blame me? You are after all, quite a beautiful woman."

The expression plastered across her face remained completely blank. She reached for the brown bag on her lap, and began fumbling through its contents. It took several seconds, but soon her hand reappeared from the folds of the fabric. Between her fingertips, was a black wallet, one that appeared to be extraordinarily new. As it fell open, Roy had difficultly suppressing another shudder filled with surprise.

"You work for the NYPD." He muttered, a hand running through is short black hair. A small smile crept across his lips. "Is that supposed to scare me?"

She closed the wallet, hiding her identification. "It should."

So far, Roy was enjoying his encounter with the person sitting along his side. He had never met anyone, especially a woman, who had refused to succumb to his allure, not to mention threaten his very existence. It was exceedingly more interesting than watching people wonder around on the streets. Failing to suppress another grin, Roy reached into his jacket pocket, locating his wallet which also contained identification.

"Two can play this game." He said while flipping open his pocketbook. "Are you scared?"

The woman sent another glare at Roy, her brown eyes flickering to appraise his picture. "I should be."

"So you aren't?" He challenged, raising his eyebrows suggestively.

"Sir, I don't mean to be rude, but I don't see how this conversation matters."

Roy starred into the woman's eyes, sinking deep into their brown depths. He wondered why she chose to be incredibly off-putting. If he looked past her icy facade, he could see kindness imprinted within the lines of her face. She was nice, but decided to act distant and cold. He had a rising suspicion it was because of his job.

"Why should you be afraid of me? I'm hardly terrifying. In fact, I'd go as far as saying that I'm quite handsome." He asked after several minutes, clearly ignoring her previous statement.

A loud sigh slipped through her lips. She continued to stare out the window, likely pretending to admire the New York scenery. Streets and people passed in a faded blur. It was almost mesmerizing, but not as dazzling at the woman who sat along the seat. She was a wonderful distraction, and Roy planned to capture her attention. There was no way he could allow the blonde to ignore him; fate had shoved them in a taxi together. If they didn't talk, that would be ignoring the gift thrown at their feet.

"Humour me." Roy said while plucking a stray hair off the edge of his jacket. "What if I was your soul mate or something?"

The woman tuned her head, sending Roy a very sceptical look. "That has to be the weakest pick-up line I have ever heard. Sir, do you have any decency?"

A sly grin dusted his cheeks. He got her talking. Now, all he had to do was maintain the conversation. That would most likely be difficult, but he had a feeling it would be worth it in the end. It was hard to explain: he felt as though there was a knot tied to his rib, and it pulled or twitched whenever the woman moved. Talking with her - it had to happen. Otherwise, he truly felt as if an opportunity would be lost.

"So you don't believe in true love?"

A snort slipped through the woman's lips. "Certainly not with you."

"Why not?"

She seemed surprised that his question held a segment of seriousness. The woman ran several fingers through her hair, obviously considering his statement. "You are Roy Mustang."

"Oh, so you know my name?" Roy said, his eyes twinkling with amusement.

"It was on your identification." She said dully, once again sending him a very incredulous stare.

"What does it have to do with anything?"

She remained silent, occasionally glancing at Roy with her warm brown eyes. "You work for Brad Tech, one of the world's most slippery cooperations. I may work for the police force, but it doesn't take that to know something odd is going on within that business."

Roy tilted his head and watched his hair slide toward his nose. "I am not the business I work for."

Surprise filtered across the woman's face. Flickers of guilt shone within her eyes. It was almost amusing, the sudden transformation in her appearance. She had grown softer somehow. Her shield, once filled with ice, seemed to crack in Roy's presence. He could tell with one look that she didn't enjoy the change.

"Well, than what are you?"

It was an interesting question, the one that slipped through her lips. There wasn't any reason for it to be, but Roy couldn't shake it off. There was a chance, a small one, that he didn't really know who he was. Perhaps he did know, it was just that his identity had been smothered by so many others. He was the city, a scientist, a lover of knowledge, a fool, and above all, purely a man. There were so many things he could be, and so many things he was. If he attempted to explain, he would, without a doubt, explode. If not that, he would surely speak for hours. The question the woman had asked was difficult, and Roy did not plan on answering it.

"I am myself."

"That is a little broad, don't you think?" The woman asked, a confused expression consuming her features.

A small smile slid across Roy's mouth. "Perhaps, but enough about me." He paused, to take in the woman's appearance. "What about you? Why should I be scared of an innocent-looking woman like yourself?"

"I'm hardly innocent."

"Oh? Well than why don't you explain? I have -" He looked down at his watch, "three minutes until the taxi stops. I am sure you can talk for that long."

"What if I don't want to talk?"

"Well, you most certainly can. I am not exactly a stranger. You know my name and job already." Roy said while tapping the surface of his watch. He wasn't sure if it was working correctly. Half the time it was just for show. Now he actually had a good use for it, and it refused to function.

"I liked it better when you just asked questions and I didn't answer." The woman muttered, a hand flying to the bridge of her nose. She starred out the window again, seemingly wasting more time. Perhaps that was her plan; avoid each and every question until Roy left the taxi. It would work, but he didn't plan on allowing her to get away that easy.

Roy shook his head, tapping his watch once again. "Two minutes."

A loud sigh slipped through her lips before she chose to talk. The woman stuck out a hand and met Roy's blue-eyed gaze. "My name is Riza Hawkeye. I work within the NYPD."

"I thought we covered this already."

The woman rolled her eyes. "I shoved my identification in your face. That doesn't fall under the definition of 'covered'."

Looking away from his watch, Roy considered the woman's comment. He smiled at the sound of her name. It was nice, the way it flowed through her lips. It was simple, yet complicated, as a name was more than a mere label. It was something tangible and fluid. A name wasn't just a word, it was the person that stood behind it.

Continuing to grin like a fool, Roy followed in Riza's footsteps. He held out a hand, his fingers spreading out in the warm air. "Let's start completely over. I don't like to be caught off track. My name is Roy Mustang and I work for an irrelevant business that I'm sure you wouldn't enjoy."

The small smile that crept along Riza's mouth was certainly not invisible. It sent warmth reeling throughout Roy's fingers and toes. She was about to say something, but he chose to completely cut her off. "Say your name again. After all, we are starting over."

She quickly rolled her eyes and chose to grab his hand. "Riza." She paused to squeeze his fingers lightly. "My name is Riza."

At that very moment Roy felt himself fall. It was difficult to understand, but he knew in some deep place within his heart, that he was meant to meet the woman starring into his eyes. He didn't believe in chance, but if there had to be such a thing, he would be alright with it for one moment. All that mattered was the texture of Riza's fingers against his own and the sensitive expression growing within her eyes. There was a small possibility that she felt the same thing, but he didn't want to jump to conclusions.

As he evaluated her face, the taxi suddenly came to a stop. Roy glanced out the window and noted the familiar sidewalk placed in front of his apartment. A miserable sigh slipped through his lips before he reluctantly released Riza's hand. "I guess your two minutes is up."

"I guess so." She said softly, gathering her purse tightly within her lap.

Roy glanced at Riza again before reaching for his wallet and sliding a wad of cash toward the driver. After that, he remained frozen for several seconds. It was funny, but he didn't want to leave. He was finally getting somewhere with the woman in the cab. She had been successful at wasting time, but failed to stifle the connection that had been forged. There was something there; it was his mission to discover what it was.

Before slipped out of the cab, Roy paused to once again meet Riza's dark brown eyes. "Dinner?"

"Nice try, sir, but I don't think so."

"How about a number?" He asked innocently, ignoring the scowl the taxi driver sent in his direction.

"No. If you believe in silly things like true love and soul mates, I am sure you can put some faith in fate." Riza replied in a serious manner. She continued to clutch her purse, and Roy couldn't help but notice how her fingers were bunched tightly. It was interesting how thing whole situation seemed to put her off guard.

"Fate, huh?" He asked, another grin consuming his features. "I guess I can deal with that. It was nice meeting you, Lieutenant. I truly hope that we bump into each other in the future."

Before she could question how he knew her rank, he slammed the door shut and watched in amusement as the taxi drove away. He stood silently, starring at every crack within the pavement beneath his feet. A grin began to slither across his face as time passed. Reaching into his pocket, Roy pulled out a wallet, one that was supposed to be with Riza. While she starred out the window disregarding his presence, he had slid a hand into her purse and snagged the very thing that contained her identification.

The thing was, he didn't believe in fate. Roy was convinced that in order to live successfully, chance was something you had to make for yourself. By grabbing Riza's wallet, he had generated an opportunity, one he would use to its greatest potential. After all, the lieutenant worked with the police. She had the means to find her possessions, and in turn, Roy himself.

He looked up at the sky, whistling as the sun came shining from behind a cloud. It was both a beautiful and lucky day. He was fortunate enough to have encountered a radiant woman, and a taxi within a short notice. The two combined - it was a miracle, something he was more than thankful for. He may have worked for one of the biggest mistakes in the world, but that did not mean he should suffer for it. There were plans within his head, ones that would trigger change.

Roy would meet Riza again. He was sure of it.

* * *

_**A/N: **_**Hello, everyone! Here is another random addition to this collection of silly stories! It's not much, but amusing nonetheless. This piece obviously takes place in an alternate universe, one that was so cleverly created due to a review. I was given another prompt, which makes me happy! I love challenging my creativity, so please continue to give me ideas!**

**Prompt: Roy manages to get into a cab only to find that someone else had made it there first. AU**

**I thought this prompt was fun! It gave me plenty to work with, but like usual, I stuck with Riza and Roy. I honestly can't help it! Next time, I promise to write something with Edward and Winry. I have been planning to, but an idea hasn't smacked me in the head. So, if anyone has a prompt of sorts, let me know! Also, I apologize if any terminology is wrong. I have only been to New York once, so I don't exactly know how everything works. **

**Enjoy!**

_**~IronEclipse **_


	9. Dress Blues

"Elegance is refusal."  
~Coco Chanel

* * *

**_Chapter Nine_**

**Dress Blues **

There was monster in Edward's closet. It slithered within the darkness, slowly feeding words of woe and sadness into his mind. It was hardly normal either, nothing like the horrid creatures that hung within the back of his mind. The monster was real. If he dared, or rather, had enough courage, it would be possible to touch the thing that lurked within his wardrobe. Of course, he was too childish to do such a thing. Monsters, as he had once learned long ago, are better left in the dark.

"Ed?"

A chill slid down the base of his spine. It was far from pleasant. The feeling nearly sent him reeling into the closet, which was something he did not want to do. If he came into contact with the creature—Edward suppressed a wince filled with anxiety—he did not want to imagine what would occur. More likely than not, he would swear and proceed to scream for his wife in vain. After all, she was the one who was to blame. Without Winry, he would never have had to encounter the monster in his closet. He would have never have had to face his unrequited fear.

With frustration, Edward breathed deeply and clenched his fists. He starred into the depths of the wardrobe, challenging the creature to a battle of wits. Without a doubt, he would win. It wasn't like the monster had a brain or a mouth to speak. It was pretty silent, which only enforced his petty fear. It was almost distracting, nearly interesting, to imagine what the thing would say. The conversation would likely be dull.

"Edward, are you ready yet?"

The sound of Winry's voice continued to send shivers down his spine. He groaned and pinched the bridge of his nose. It was possible to completely ignore the situation, but that would only cause more harm than good. His wife had excellent aim. Disregarding her demands would only lead to a blow in the head, which was something he desperately despised. Anything was better than receiving an injury from a wrench, a tool meant to heal and help.

Instead, Edward remained silent, continuing to glower at the so called monster within his closet. He couldn't bare the injustice of it all, and soon, without a sound, collapsed toward the ground. Embracing the floorboards was far better than confronting the thing that was situated in-between his clothing. He enjoyed the slight chill that sunk within his skin. It reminded him of old times, when he used to stare up at the night sky and wonder what existed above. The grass would tickle his arms and legs, reviving every nerve within his body. That of course, was different from lying on the floor, but the idea was the same. He wanted to get away. Edward wanted to escape.

"For heaven's sake, Edward. Are you ready? I'm not getting any older over here."

When Winry's voice came toward his location, Edward prepared for the worst. He closed his eyes, envisioning the night sky. It was hardly realistic, but it had to be better than dealing with the monster. For a moment, he could taste the night air on his tongue. He could feel the grass that brushed against his skin. A starry sky could be seen within the depths of his mind. It was bold, bright, and beautifully warm. It was everything he imagined it would be. Of course, it had to end.

"_Oh, Ed!_" Winry said in an annoyed tone. She was now standing along the edge of the room, her blonde hair shining in the pale afternoon light. "What are you doing? I thought I told you to get ready!"

A loud groan slipped through his lips. Edward squeezed his eyes shut, wishing the the whole world would just fade away. "I'm dying, Winry. Just leave me alone."

A frustrated huff slipped through her lips. Edward cracked open his eyes, just wide enough so he could see the details of Winry's face. Her lips were pressed into a hard line, and her eyes, usually glowing with life, were filled with disappointment. The expression on her face - he didn't like it. In fact, Edward never enjoyed being the cause of her discontent. Long ago he had promised that he would make her smile. Now, he was obviously violating that solemn vow. It was almost selfish, but had never been one to quickly judge.

"Hey, don't give me that look. You know I hate that _thing_." He muttered while running a hand along his face.

"You can't hate it that much."

Edward cracked open his eyes again, sending Winry a sceptical look. "I hate it. That thing is a piece of crap. I tried to burn it once, remember?"

"Yes, and I stopped you from making the worst decision of your life." She replied, leaning down and brushing a strand of hair from the centre of his head. "Can't you just wear it this once? It won't kill you."

A positive reply nearly slipped through Edward's lips, but he quickly stopped himself. Winry wasn't playing fair. After brushing his forehead, she had continued to fiddle with his hair. Her fingertips occasionally lingered along his skin, which sent jolts of heat across his cheeks. No, she was certainly not playing fair. Her actions were distracting in more ways than one. In order to save himself, Edward reached and grabbed her hand, which stalled the process of simply losing control.

"It _will_ kill me. I'm already dying."

Winry released a heavy sigh. She tried to pull her hand away from Edward, but he continued to hold onto it tightly. It was almost as if he had claimed ownership of her fingers, completely refusing to let them go. It was childish, but in a cute and endearing sort of way.

"You're not dying, Edward. Now can you please get ready? The closet is right there" She stated, clearly pointing in the direction of the so called monster.

"I can't." Edward whined loudly, his head tilting to the side. "I _hate _it."

"You hate everything."

"That's not true."

Silence danced throughout the air again, but not for very long. Winry was not one to run from an argument or a foolish confrontation. Edward suppressed a small laugh as he starred into his wife's eyes. For the first time he realized that she was dressed up. Ringlets framed her delicate features, falling onto her shoulders softly. The dress she wore was a dark navy blue. It fell smoothly and was simply breathtaking. It would have been enchanting if it was any other day or time. Sadly, he was sprawled across the floor, ignoring the obvious problem within his closet.

"Oh, really?" She suddenly said, her voice filled with sarcasm. Once again, she attempted to pull her fingers away from Edward's grasp, but he held on tight.

"I don't hate you." He said softly before placing a small kiss along the palm of her hand. It was a simple touch, a mere peck, but it was enough to force a smile to cross her features. For a moment, the whole situation was rewarding. Watching light bloom across her face — it was one of his favourite things in the whole world. He would never trade it for anything, not even the ability to preform alchemy again.

A pained sigh slipped through Winry's lips. "If you don't hate me, why don't you get dressed?"

Another groan exploded within the air. Edward dropped Winry's hand and threw his arms into the air. "I can't! That damned thing will kill me!"

Winry rolled her eyes and walked toward the closet. She grabbed the cursed _thing_ and placed it along the edge of their bed, which was centred in the middle of the room. The sight of the object nearly gave Edward a stroke. He choked, the oxygen within his lungs suddenly becoming scarce. At that very moment, he realized that the dreaded monster had to be the ugliest thing he had ever seen. It was blue and utterly horrible, a creation that had simply gone wrong. Perhaps it was the person who made it. Edward would never know.

"Please, just get rid of it!" He moaned, suddenly throwing an arm over his eyes. "It's a bloody eyesore!"

"Edward," Winry began in a steady tone, "if this suit doesn't kill you, I will. Get dressed, or I'll start doing it for you. We can't be late. Not to an event like this."

Helpless wasn't even a word used to describe Edward's condition. He peaked over his arm and sent Winry a frustrated scowl. He didn't care for parties, especially those that required the use of his dress blues. The suit was horribly uncomfortable and didn't suit his personality at all. It was ugly and blue, a colour that wasn't awesome in any shape or form. Red would have been better, but the thing was a _suit_. There was nothing remotely attractive about it, at least, in his own eyes. He knew Winry found some amusement in the uniform, but even for her, it was difficult to wear.

"Don't give me that look. What would Roy think?" Winry muttered as she pulled a piece of lint off from the fabric.

"I don't care what that ass would think!"

"He's Fuhrer. I know you care."

A grimace consumed Edward's features. He didn't want to care, but was truly proud of his friend. The man was certainly an idiot, but had a heart of pure gold. Amestris would certainly improve under his control. Democracy, an important ideology within government, would prevail once again. He had seen it in Roy's eyes; a drive to succeed no matter any and every consequence. There were barriers within his path, but nothing he couldn't conquer without the help of his friends.

"Mustang's opinion won't change my mind. Like I said, he's a conceited bastard."

"What will change your mind?" Winry asked in a flustered tone. She looked up from Edward's uniform, her eyes glittering with a foreign emotion, one that could not be deciphered.

For a moment, he considered the words that had popped through his wife's lips. In all honestly, there was little that would change his mind. He didn't want to attend Mustang's party — it would be an uncomfortable and terrible bore. Random people would hull him around as if he were a stray calf. More likely than not, he would be forced to tell others about his depressing past, and that was far from desirable. Of course, Winry had to ask what would 'change his mind'. There was at least one thing that could possibly allow him to deal with the whole mess.

"I'll take you up on your previous suggestion." Edward managed to say quietly.

Winry slapped his arm. "No! Get dressed yourself!"

A small grin consumed Edward's features. He met his wife's gaze and allowed a laugh to slip through his lips. Her assistance would have made the whole process easier, but it was not meant to be. Winry would never help him get undressed, especially in a questionable mood. They were on the verge of becoming extremely late, which most likely escalated her feelings of annoyance and anxiety. It was shocking that she hadn't tossed something toward the back of his head. Normally that would have been her first reaction to his foolish position along the floor.

Edward groaned again and forced himself to stand on his feet. "Will this whole thing make you happy?"

"Yes, Ed." Winry began in a dull tone. She glanced at his uniform again and sighed deeply. "If you get dressed, I'll be very happy."

A snort exploded throughout the air. "I always thought it was the other way around."

That, of course, resulted in his ultimate demise. In a matter of seconds, Winry had whipped his crappy uniform right into his face. Edward released an unearthly shriek, jumping backwards as if a bug had suddenly appeared on the floor. Sadly, that didn't allow him to completely avoid the fabric. A pant leg had wound its way around his head. It looked like an incredibly stupid hat, which only served to make his wife laugh.

"Uh, look what you've done! I'm _touching _it." Edward stated with disgust.

"Look," Winry said, her voice still filled with laughter, "if you put it on, I might be able to help you later."

He stood quietly within the room, his fingers tugging on the fabric draped across his head. In the end, there was a slim possibility that he could wear the ugly uniform. His wife had made a modest proposal. It was certainly something he couldn't turn down, not without another worthless fight. After all, Winry came before anything, even the clothing that was now situated within his hair.

"I'll hold you to that."

Winry walked across the room and planted a kiss upon Edward's cheek. Her lips lingered along his skin for a moment, but quickly vanished. It was nearly disappointing, but he knew better than to hope for the very best. He had, after all, acted like a complete child. A simple peck on the cheek was all he deserved.

"I'm sure you will. Now hurry up! Time is of the essence!"

When she had retreated from the room, Edward shook his head. He glanced at the uniform - the monster, that now rested between his fingertips. It continued to send mixed feelings throughout his body and heart. It represented so many things, most of which was lost within the past. He never wanted to look back, but had to every day. Perhaps that was why he locked the suit deep within his closet. It was better, far more convenient, to allow his memories to linger in the darkness. They could never haunt him there. He could sleep better at night, knowing that the past was truly something that no longer existed in his life.

Unfortunately, today had to be different. Today was the day he would display his misfortunes to the world. He would wear his troubles like a bright red cape, and walk around with pride. After all, he was the hero of his own story. He had to define himself.

* * *

_A/N:_ Hello, everyone! I haven't posted a new story in awhile, so after gaining some free time, I managed to type this up. Exams are coming, so I may not be able to update quickly, but that's alright. Like I have stated many times, these pieces are in no particular order! They are completely random! This oneshot was inspired from a review, which I received awhile back. I thought it would be amusing, so BAM. I created a story with Edward and Winry. Yay!

Prompt: Ed has to wear his military uniform for some prestigious event and doesn't want to.

Simple enough? I thought so as well! Anyways, feel free to leave a review and prompt! It will make my day!

_~IronEclipse _


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